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Satyre IIII. |
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Well; I may now receive, and die; My sinne |
Indeed is great, but I have beene in |
A Purgatorie, such as fear'd hell is |
A recreation, and scant map of this. |
My minde, neither with prides itch, nor yet hath been |
Poyson'd with love to see, or to bee seene, |
I had no suit there, nor new suite to shew, |
Yet went to Court; But as Glaze which did goe |
To Masse in jest, catch'd, was faine to disburse |
The hundred markes, which is the Statutes curse; |
Before he scapt, So'it pleas'd my destinie |
(Guilty of my sin of going,) to thinke me |
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget- |
full, as proud, as lustfull, and as much in debt, |
As vaine, as witlesse, and as false as they |
Which dwell in Court, for once going that way. |
Therefore I suffered this; Towards me did runne |
A thing more strange, then on Niles slime, the Sunne |
E'r bred, or all which into Noahs Arke came: |
A thing, which would have pos'd Adam to name, |
Stranger then seaven Antiquaries studies, |
Then Africks Monsters, Guianaes rarities, |
Stranger then strangers; One, who for a Dane, |
In the Danes Massacre had sure beene slaine, |
If he had liv'd then; And without helpe dies, |
When next the Prentises'gainst Strangers rise.
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[CW: One] |